


Fake It 'Till You Fail

by WordObsessed



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23149696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordObsessed/pseuds/WordObsessed
Summary: Roman is magical, but that can only get you so far
Kudos: 14





	Fake It 'Till You Fail

**Author's Note:**

> *laughs maniacally* I wrote this in a single stream of consciousness. Enjoy at your own risk

Roman was magical. He was beauty and grace incarnate, flawless in every way. The people adored him, and he was in perfect position for everything wonderful in his life to simply fall into his lap.

He was prince, the only in line to inherit his peaceful kingdom in a time of plenty. His parents were ruling happily, agreeing to hand over the throne when he came of age. Every person in the kingdom couldn't help but be utterly infatuated, either wanting to kiss him or be him.

Oh, and the actual magic radiating from his body helped as well. He could create magnificent red illusions, crafting pictures and weaving stories from his fingertips. Sometimes he would go out into the city, and thrill the children with his small feats, crafting them scenes or objects, balls of light to throw around or castles of their own to play in. The streets around him would glow with his magic until the sun hung low and the children retreated back to their homes, and he would extinguish the lights with a content sigh.

Life was utterly perfect. Until the one day it came crashing down around him.

The morning... he couldn't even remember the morning of that day. It all happened during lunch. He was eating with his parents, a meal of goose in a thick orange sauce, with vegetable soup and a crisp bread. The first sign that something was off was the soup starting to tremble precariously, sloshing over the side of the bowl as if rocked by invisible hands.

The next thing he knew, the whole table was shaking, and he stood up so quickly his chair fell over. He backpedaled quickly, trying to get away from the table, from the things that could fall and hurt him. The King and Queen were slower to respond, but began to back away just the same. Roman and his mother had been on the same side of the table that night, by sheer circumstance of how they had sat down, and ended up on the wall opposite the King.

He began to move towards them, trying and failing to balance on the unstable ground, and he had just fallen to his knees again when Roman noticed the cracks in the ceiling, getting wider with each passing millisecond. Then the chandelier broke free, crashing down right on the King.

Roman reached out instinctively, his magic moving with him. The shield he attempted to throw the King to save him hit the glass. Another part of the chandelier broke off, making it even harder to see what parts had actually hit the King.

He heard his mother's sharp intake of breathe just before he saw the pool of blood, three or four shades darker than the red of his own magic pooling across the polished wood.

Roman caught the Queen's eye, saw her face harden, and she grabbed his arm as they began to inch towards the door. As they did, the tremors stopped. Neither one of them spoke, but they reached the doors to the nearest hallway and began to run, trying to make it to the grounds outside.

Then the shaking started again. Roman shoved a vase aside that had come flying towards them off a shelf. Then he tripped over something, he didn't even know what, but that was probably the only thing that kept him alive.

The Queen was just ahead of him, and another piece of ceiling broke off. This one contained no glass chandelier, but it turned out to be just as deadly. Roman actually had time to throw up a barrier between his mother and the falling debris, but not until one piece had knocked her flat to the ground.

The rest of the weight hit his shield, and it felt like it had hit Roman himself. He began to strain to hold it up, and yelled to the Queen.

"Mom! Come on, you have to get out of there!"

But she didn't answer. She must hit her head and been knocked unconscious.

"Help! Someone help me!"

There had to be other people still struggling to get out of the castle. Another portion of the ceiling fell to the ground, making Roman stagger, lose his balance once again. No one came to his aid.

The ground began to calm, but Roman's control was slipping quickly. He couldn't hold the shield and get his mother out at the same time. He tried to crawl towards her, but pains shot through his chest. He let out a cry, and the shield's color flickered slightly. It was failing. He was the only thing saving his mother from death, and he was failing.

"No! No no no no no!"

His head was swimming, dizzy with this effort he had never tried to exert before. The shield was dimming quickly, and sweat poured down his face.

He blacked out, the barrier disappearing and letting tons of weight bury the Queen.

When he woke up, Roman was surprised to be alive.

"It's all right, Your Majesty. You will be fine."

"My parents," Roman croaked. 'Your Majesty' was the title for a king. Either his father was already dead or very close to it. He had seen, felt the weight he had dropped on his mother. She would not have survived without many, probably unhealable injuries.

"Both deceased, Your Majesty. Your father..."

"I know," Roman interrupted. "I was there."

"Oh." He had seemed to catch the woman off guard."Well, you had better get more sleep."

So Roman slept. On and off, for weeks. He was weak and virtually unreachable.

One day, he was visited by a family from the city, giving him well wishes. There was a small boy with them. He was within the group of kids that had always tagged along with Roman when he went out for trips in the city, begging to see his magic.

He made a similar request that day, perhaps believing that one of his usual grand displays would cheer the King up, as it always had in the past.

Roman considered his hands for a moment. The last time he had used his magic was that terrible shield that had failed his mother. But maybe he could thrill this child, make at least one person happy. He attempted to throw a handful of stars and sparkles into the air, but it only resulted in the stinging of his palms, a faint sputter of red sparks bursting into the air, and worst of all, a shattering pain in his heart that the family later claimed was audible.

The rumor is that that was what finally drove the Mad King to his limits. The knowledge that he and his magic, which had once been beautiful and perfect, would never do anything good ever again.


End file.
